


Haze

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-20
Updated: 2006-06-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: In response to a dare by lovelyravenclaw in the fic dares thread in the forum.. A Marauder's era one-shot that must include the words icicles, lackadaisical, frog spawn, smothered, and magenta.





	Haze

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  


I can’t remember much of my youth – not as a continuous line of time. Instead, moments are scattered, disjointed. Years mingle into days and months lasted only hours, time fractured and twisting seconds of thought into weeks. The memories curl into each other like wisps of smoke from the joints that were perpetually being rolled, hazy like the sun in the summer sky that is always in the back of my mind. Never a care in the world; back then… 

 

Music melts out of the radio, the Beatles and then the Stones providing a soundtrack to our lives – melodies intertwining with the haze of smoke that clouded my mind. Summer sun shone on the lake as we lay there in the most lackadaisical manner, curls of smoke wafting up into the trees to mix with the leaves. Autumn rain beat down on the windowpanes as we gazed off into the distance, not really looking at anything, just content to gossip and giggle and be kids. Icicles hung off the roof of the shed as we hid behind it, smoking the last of our current stash while we bartered for more from a friend of a friend who could give it to us for cheap. Then, Spring rolled around again, and we were still kids, but playing at being adults, and all of a sudden, there was purpose.

 

 I don’t mean exams, although schoolwork was always there in the background. No, I mean a real purpose, a war, and we were so close to the cusp of adulthood that we found ourselves prematurely pushed into a world where we had responsibility. And the hazy Summer days didn’t roll around again. No more poking the frogspawn by the lake, no more sitting in the trees watching the sun set over the Forbidden Forest, spilling orange and magenta and purple across the sky in patterns that matched the smoke drifting upwards from our lips and hands. We had people who would soon come to rely on us – when we graduated, instead of simply finding normal jobs, my year, my _friends_ , would become Aurors and Healers and Unspeakables. They would be adults, truly. And our carefree childhood would be smothered, crushed, and broken up into hazy memories of times that were.


End file.
